by Tara Wylde
“You’re right,” I groan.
Roderick crosses his arms and stares at me with dancing eyes. I recognize that look. He’s getting ready to throw down a gauntlet.
“I think it’s time we discussed what the hell just happened.”
“We fenced. I advanced. You fell down like some novice.”
Roderick’s eyes flash at the word novice. It’s a deliberate slight. Roderick and I started fencing at the exact same age and are evenly matched, though I tend to win more matches than he does.
“You tripped me. And now, not only is Carlos pissed at both of us, but I’ve got a bruised ass.” He glances at Tim. “You saw what happened. Back me up.”
Tim holds up his hands, his palms turned towards us. “Hey man, if you think I’m getting involved in this argument, you’re nuts. I know better.”
“I never touched you,” I remind him. “You fell.”
“It’s still your fault.”
This is so typical of Roderick. My cousin is a good guy, but he hates taking the blame for his mistakes. I understand. I’m the same way. You kind of have to be growing up in a family like ours.
Luckily, I don’t make many mistakes. It's usually a non-issue.
Except for one time. At the Olympics. The biggest mistake of my life, on the biggest stage, and worse - it’s one that I can only blame on myself.
I don’t know if Roderick reads my thoughts on my face, or if he simply knows me so well that he’s able to anticipate them.
All I know for sure is that his next words confirm that he’s thinking about the previous Summer Games – and specifically, how I behaved during them.
He crosses his arms and stares at me. I can practically see the wheels turning in his head. I don’t know exactly what he’s thinking – but I’ve got a feeling it’s nothing good. For me, that is.
“Tim,” he finally says, “your dad’s about as mad at us as he’s ever been, wouldn’t you say?”
Our long-suffering assistant coach – and friend – blows out a heavy sigh. He’s never been crazy about getting dragged into Roderick’s and my disputes. “Yes.”
“And this most recent blow-up, it’s about more than just today’s incident, wouldn’t you say?”
I can tell Tim is starting to follow Roderick’s train of thought. His eyes narrow as he tries to anticipate what’s coming next.
“Yeah.”
“Don’t you think that most of his rage has a great deal to do with this royal buffoon’s actions at the Olympics?”
My whole life, I’ve worked hard to always be dignified, like an heir to the throne should be, so being called a buffoon grates. Unfortunately, he’s right, which is the only reason I don’t drive my fist into his nose.
I behaved badly, performed even worse, and let everyone down. And as much as I hate to admit it, I was the only one to blame.
“Yeah,” Tim says.
“Wouldn’t you say that if Prince Buffoon –,”
Roderick’s eyes grow brighter. Not only does the name tickle his absurd sense of humor, but he also knows how much it’s pissing me off. “– were to win the European Masters in four months, it’d go a long way towards easing your dad’s righteous rage.”
“It sure would.”
“I intend to win it, I growl. I can’t help myself. By now it’s an instinctual reaction. After all, if I claim gold this summer it will be for the fifth time in a row, something no other fencer has ever accomplished.
“Oh, I think we need to make sure you do,” Roderick says, “and after that stunt at the Olympics, I think Tim and I need to ensure that’s there’s no chance of you making a similar… error.”
“I won’t.” There’s no way I’ll ever do anything so incredibly stupid again. I still can’t believe I did it the first time. “I give you my word that I won’t screw up again.”
Roderick shakes his head.
“No,” he grins, dragging the word out, with gusto. “I don’t think your word is good enough. Not this time.”
I can’t believe I’m even having this conversation. I grind my teeth, but force out the words. “Okay, what will be enough?”
“Marriage,” Roderick says and a self-satisfied smile creeps across his face.
“I say it is high time you found yourself a consort, my Prince. The Queen has been talking about it for years. I think you should get married before the European Fencing Masters. I dare you to do it.”
Lucas
Damn-it!
Roderick didn’t use the word dare as a figure of speech, or out of habit. He knows I’m incapable of backing down from a dare – and that this character flaw has pushed me into some pretty stupid things in my life, including bungee jumping, kissing Kaylyn Jennings in third grade, white water rafting, riding that stupid thoroughbred after it had already thrown three experienced trainers, and eating an entire jar of mayonnaise when I was fourteen.
Each time I knew I was getting into something I’d regret, assuming I lived through the experience, yet even so, I couldn’t stop myself from accepting the challenge. It was like taking dares was a part of my DNA.
Of course, those experiences have been some of the best of my entire life. But marriage, that's a pretty big deal. The biggest, you could say.
“I don’t know.”
I’ve never hesitated in the face of a dare before. I always just shake hands and leap into the challenge.
I hear a click behind me as a door opens and closes in the distance. Roderick and Tim grin at whoever has just entered. Probably one of the younger team members. Carlos usually works with four or five fourteen-year olds about this time of day.
Roderick jostles Tim with his elbow. “C’mon, back me up. Marriage is perfect.”
“Lucas, you’re getting married?” The soft, feminine voice behind me makes me want to grab my saber from Tim and genuinely run it through Roderick. “May I inquire as to the identity of the lucky lady.”
I groan, this is the last thing I need right now. “No, mom.”
I turn around to find that not only has my mother come for a visit, but that she’s brought both her lovely personal assistant, Eileen, and my sister, Shelly.
She arches a brow and holds my gaze with hers. “Why not?”
“You can’t because there is no lucky lady. There’s no lady at all.” As I’m speaking, my forehead furrows into a frown. “Anyway, what are you doing down here?” I can’t remember the last time she visited the training center.
“I wanted to speak to you about the possibility of having some of the family's collection of antiques appraised before we donate them to museums. Since you seem to spend all your time training these days, I had to come down here.”
“Now, what is this about you getting married?”
“It’s nothing,” I grunt. “Just Roderick playing the fool.” I flash him my best side-eye. “Like normal.”
And he’s not about to let up. I wince. I’ve given him an opening, and just like on the quad, he’s going to take it.
Roderick grins at my mother. They’ve always been close. “It’s a dare, Aunt Lynette. You know how he is about those.”
Shelly shudders. “I’ll never forget the time you dared him to put a toad in every single one of my shoes. Sometimes, I still worry that we didn’t get all of them and that I’ll open a closet or dresser drawer and find one we forgot.”
The memory brightens my day. That had been a truly epic dare, one for the history books.
“What’s the connection between matrimony and a dare,” my mother asks.
This will do it, I think, she’ll put her foot down.
“I dared him to get married before the European Fencing Masters Competition.”
“That’s four months away,” Shelly points out. “Plenty of time for him to find a bride.” She looks like she’s already warmed to the idea.
Not good.
“Too much time, if you ask me,” Tim says, adding his two cents. "And they could have the entire deal annulled after the even
t. I vote not only does he have to find a bride and be wed thirty days from today but he still needs to be married during the competition.”
“Excellent,” Roderick rubs his hands together, an evil smile pulling his face apart. “If you’re not married by midnight, thirty days from now, you have to give Tim and me joint ownership of that sweet little villa you bought this winter in return. And let’s be honest”
My fists clench unbidden. I love that villa.
Not only is it gorgeous and located on, as far as I’m concerned, one of the best pieces of real estate in my country, but in the few months I’ve owned it, it has become my quiet place. The one spot I can go and just be, me. Something I can’t do when I’m surrounded by the various members of the royal family, and all our hangers-on.
“What if he gets married but she dumps him before the competition?” Shelly asks. “Then what happens?”
“Um,” Lucas took a moment to think about it. “He has to strip down to his tighty-whities, cover himself in orange Jello and sing karaoke. At the event. And take the entire jousting team camping for three nights. In tents.”
This might have come off the top of his head, but that doesn’t make the threat any less effective. The list of things I don’t do includes singing, touching anything that so much as resembles Jello, sing, or camp.
Especially camp.
I glance at Eileen who is studying me with narrowed eyes. Sometimes I get the impression, she’s calculating something and that it’s something that involves me, I tense and wait for her to add her own two cents, but she doesn’t.
“I’d pay big money to see that little exhibition,” Shelly says.
It’s good to see her out and about, ever since Phillipe Evans, the world-renowned maestro started helping her with her piano playing and prepping her for a multiple country piano recital tour, it seems like she spends all her time locked away with him.
I meet my mom’s eyes. She’s my last ally. Surely she’ll have something to say about the plan. Like how there’s some law about the heir to the throne not being able to marry as the result of the bet.
Something.
Anything.
“Mom?”
“I think it’s a grand idea.”
“Mom!”
It’s like she’s thrown me to the wolves. I can’t believe she just said that.
She cups my face between her hands. “Lucas, it’s not my fault you’re incapable of saying no to any challenge. Besides, royal weddings are always good for national morale. I want grandbabies while I still have the energy to keep up with them.”
I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place. I don’t want to do this, but something inside me that I’ve never been able to suppress won’t let me back down.
If I’m sensible, I’d walk out of this room and ignore this situation. Unfortunately, you can’t accuse me of being a lot of things – but never sensible. Instead, I turn around and clasp the hand Roderick extends with a smug, knowing grin.
“You’re on.”
Alexis
The photo on my laptop screen shows a medium sized chandelier with thousands of hand-blown, filigreed edged pieces of glass dripping from its golden stems. Two years ago, I was hired to authenticate and value the chandelier. The photo doesn’t do it justice.
I scroll past the photo and study the text beneath it. A knock on my hotel door startles me.
The clock at the base of computer screen says it’s 9:13, local time. “It’s open,” I call out. I know exactly who it is. She’s on time. Punctual as always.
The hotel room door swings open, revealing a tall, stunning blonde woman leaning against the door frame. Well, usually she’s stunning. This morning she looks the way I usually feel when I’m beside her-rumbled and unkempt.
“Tessa?”
I stand up fast, bumping the table with the front of my thighs, causing my laptop, which I always seem to have too close to the edge, to start to fall. I scramble, catching it just in time, and slid it towards the middle before my attention snaps back to my bleary-eyed visitor.
“What happened to you?”
Tessa’s the most elegant and prettiest person I know. She can actually spend a full twenty-four hours on an airplane, and emerge from the experience not only sharp minded and clear eyed, but still looking perfectly pressed.
Tessa shoves herself upright, staggers across the room, and falls, face first, onto my bed.
“I’ve spent the past five hours on the bathroom floor having a meaningful relationship with the toilet,” she says in a raw voice. “I’m still not sure if it’s food poisoning or the flu, but either way, death would be preferable to what I’ve been going through.”
I creep closer to the bed and place the back of my hand on her forehead. Her skin is clammy.
“Did you call a doctor?”
“Any idea how health insurance works in this part of the world?”
“No…”
Six years ago, Tessa and I joined forces to create an antique consulting firm. I handle the authentication and valuing of various antiques while Tessa meets with clients and basically does all the other stuff that’s connected to running a business, including health insurance
“We’re covered, barely. The premium is scary high,” Tessa explains. “Rather than saddle myself and the business with medical bills we can’t afford, I choose to suffer in solitude.”
I don’t have any kind of medical knowledge, but even I can see Tessa isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
I reach for the cell phone on the bedside stand. “I’ll reschedule the meeting.” It’s not something I am looking forward to. Royalty doesn’t usually tolerate delays, even when they involve a sick associate.
“No!” Tessa rolls over onto her back and glares at me with blood shot eyes. “You can’t re-book. You know how royals are. They’ll take it as a sign that we’re flaky and unreliable, and go with a different consulting firm. We can’t afford to lose the business, and we really can’t afford to take the hit to our reputation.”
“But you can’t go, and I can’t do this by myself.”
I lack the patience and social skills needed to handle the über wealthy our antique consulting business puts us in contact with. Okay, so mainly my social skills are the issue. I’m painfully shy and always get tongue-tied and awkward whenever I’m around people. Tessa swears it’s all in my head, but I’m not sure if she’s telling the truth or just trying to make me feel better.
Tessa, by contrast, is always right at home with them. She’s pretty and flirtatious, and always knows exactly what to say to charm whoever she’s with. It works with both men and women. We’ve built our entire business around our strengths. She deals with the clients while I deal with their valuable antiques. The system works really well, until it doesn’t.
Like today.
“You’ll be fine,” Tessa says. Her exhausted eyes lock on my computer screen and narrow.
“No, I won’t. You know I can’t ever remember all the complicated stuff like when to curtsey, and who to make eye contact with, and who to address. I’ll mess it up.”
Just thinking about the number of different ways I can screw up sets my heart hammering against my chest. I grab the edge of the table and focus on taking deep, calming breaths.
“You’ll be fine,” Tessa insists.
“What if I’m not.” I hate the whining edge in my tone.
“Just keep the damn meeting,” Tessa snaps. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “Sorry, didn’t mean to yell. It’s just that,” She gestures towards her face. “I feel like crap. Let me try again. Please stop fretting and go to the meeting. You’ve done stuff like this before, if something does go sideways, I’ll fix it as soon as I’m back on my feet.”
I yield. It’s not like I have much choice. She really is sick and the business can’t afford to lose a single potential client. “I’ll go.”
“Outstanding,” Tessa flashes a weak smile and points at the computer screen. “Now tell me wha
t the Hell all that’s about.”
“Some art and antiques have been stolen recently, including a massive chandelier and some antique glass bowls from a private French residence. Interpol has some questions, so they sent me an email,” I explain.
“Uh huh. Why’d they send you an email about it?”
“I valued some of the items a few years back, so Interpol thought I’m one of the more qualified experts in their Rolodex to help with this particular case.”
It’s an understatement. I’m one of the few people in the world who specializes in antique glass.
“Interpol must know I’m in Moravia. They mentioned thinking there was a possibility of Moravian connections to the case, and I just can’t imagine why they’d say that if they didn’t know I was here.”
“Alexis, do me a favor,” Tessa says.
“Yeah?”
“If by some wild chance, you do stumble across some weird nut job who likes glass and steals it from the filthy rich-”
“I promise, I’ll be careful.” I don’t know why she bothers with the warning. Of the pair of us, I’m the least likely to do something impulsive or reckless. She knows that as well as I do. I’m the kind of person who, if someone shoved a gun in my face, would throw all my money at them and hide under a table while begging for my life.
“Yeah, that would be good, but what I was really going to say was to make sure you do something to drive more customers our way. We’ve got to come up with a new way to generate income.”
Tessa doesn’t give me a chance to respond. The points at the door. “Now get out of here before you’re late. And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Lucas
The sweet scent of freshly cut grass and late summer rose blooms tickle my nose as I shoot across the stretch of lawn that separates the training facility from the castle’s front entrance.